A Long Time Coming Pt. 01

'Morning,' I chimed.

'Oh...morning,' she stuttered, as she stood in the doorway, hastily tying up the front of her dressing gown. 'You're early.'

It was a good look on her - the figure-hugging blue satin. And being flustered.

'I hope I didn't disturb you?' I said, smiling.

She smiled back, running her fingers through her hair. 'Oh, no. I've just been lounging about, watching the telly.'

I stared at the front of her gown and watched a solitary bead of sweat meander down the middle her long, fabulously flushed cleavage. Fuck, she looked hot - in every sense of the word. How I'd love to dive in there and lose myself amongst all that delicious, soft flesh.

If only.

'Will you do me a favour, Andy?' She said, intercepting my gaze with a knowing smile and stepping back from the door. 'Will you have a look at the light in the living room? I think one of the bulbs has gone.'

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

'Of course. No problem,' I replied. 'Lead the way.' And I followed her down the hallway gazing at her broad, tightly clad arse.

Another place I'd love to get lost in. Her ass, that is, not the hallway.

Fuck me, I had it bad today.

I've known Dorothy for at least twenty-five years, you see, and worked for her for the best part of the last twenty. And though I've never let on, I can say without fear of contradiction that I've fancied that tightly clad arse off her the entire time.

I've seen her bury a husband (no loss - a complete cunt), a daughter (a crying shame - a lovely woman), and a dog (as daft as a brush and, strictly speaking, I buried him). But, rather than contempt, this familiarity with her and her life has, in fact, bred a desire. A very real, extremely visceral desire.

Go figure, eh?

So much for all this 'having a type' bollocks.

'I think it's that one,' she said, pointing up to one of the bulbs in the light fitting above us.

I looked up, still distracted.

The room had a distinctive smell about it: a warm, sweet, musky sort of smell that made the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I glanced at her and then over her shoulder at the settee where a crumpled white bath towel was spread out over the seat cushions.

'What do you think then?'

Hmm, you probably don't want to know.

'I tell you what,' I said, looking at a particularly eye-catching stretch of her damp cleavage. 'You fetch me a spare bulb and I'll go and get the stool from the garage and we'll see what's what, shall we?'

She smiled and nodded and off we went.

When I returned with the stool, she was already waiting for me under the light, spare bulb in hand.

I smiled again. The front of her gown had slipped open a little further revealing more of the soft expanse of her breasts and a tantalising slither of her pale belly.

'Right,' I said, stepping up onto the stool, 'let the dog see the rabbit then.'

On inspection, the bulb had indeed 'gone', so I unscrewed it and went to hand it down to her.

'Swap you,' I said, nodding to the spare bulb in her hand.

Now, one of two things happened as she reached up to take the blown bulb from me: either the knot in the belt holding her gown together slipped undone all by itself, or she undid it. I don't know which. Not that it made any difference. The end result was the same - the front of her gown fell wide open.

For what seemed like an age, I just stood stock still on the stool staring down at her.

Her gorgeous, ample breasts, with their dark, stiff nipples, completely monopolised the top half of her torso. And then, below the swell of her belly, a neatly trimmed triangle of fine, light hair directed me to the filly fringes of her pussy nestling at the epicentre of her broad hips and thighs.

I was captivated. Captivated with a hard cock.

Maybe it was because of something she saw in my eyes (or jeans), or maybe it was because of something already simmering away in her - maybe a sense of moment too - but she didn't flinch or panic and made no attempt to cover herself up. She just took the spent bulb then handed me the replacement one, smiling.

I took the bulb and smiled back, stalling, watching her breasts rise as she took a long, deep breath.

'I've always loved the way you look at me,' she said, quietly.

I continued to drink her in as the tingle in my stomach spread to my groin and crept up my cock.

'You always make me feel so desirable,' she whispered, 'so wanted.'

And then it was my turn to breath deeply as I stared into her eyes and felt the scales fall away from mine. In a flash (quite literally) twenty years meant nothing. And everything.

Fuck.

Really fuck.

I could have kicked myself for being such a bell-end.

Still, if you can't read them, join them.

'Can you blame me?' I said, stepping down from the stool and pulling my shirt out of my jeans.

I watched a delicious rash of goosebumps spread out from her nipples and cover the front of her breasts as she reached for my hem.

Then she paused.

'It won't ever be the same again after this, will it?'

But there didn't seem a hint of resignation or regret in her rhetoric.

'I hope not,' I replied, smiling.

She nodded and smiled back. 'Good.'

Then she took hold of my shirt and began to peel it up my chest.

And I was putty in her hands.

She teased me with her fingers, her lips and her breasts, softly stroking, kissing and brushing every inch of my quivering skin as she slowly undressed me. And her smell, her lovely, intoxicating smell - that smell - had my mind swirling (and my cock throbbing) as her warm, tender body slowly orbited me.

'Just one more thing,' I said, slipping the gown off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

And then she was naked too.

Dorothy. Naked. Still very much the woman who made me cakes and laughed at my crap jokes; still the mother, the grandmother. But naked now. Naked and wanted. And wanting.

Fuck. Again.

'Why don't you take a seat?' I said, nodding to the settee.

It wasn't like I had a plan or a strategy, I was simply going to do what I did best and wank for her. Wank and cum and want.

It would do. For starters.

For a few brief moments, we did nothing but study each other. Then I looked down, wrapped my fingers around my cock and began to stroke away. Long, steady strokes that had me panting and penetrating the air between us. And straight away, as she stared at me opened mouthed, with her own chest heaving, I knew it had been the right decision.

And she made it so very, very easy.

Her eyes burned into me as she ran her hands up and down her body, slowly parting her legs and laying bare her gorgeous, fleshy pussy. And then, with her gaze firmly fixed on my cock, she gasped and bucked her hips and began to frantically whisk away on her clit.

And, as if that wasn't enough, in between those gasps she repeatedly blurted out just how much she loved my cock and how she couldn't wait to feel it deep inside her.

Loved my cock? Dorothy. And there was me thinking that she loved EastEnders and Countdown.

I nearly fucking fainted.

And then I was teetering. We both were.

My cock tightened with every one of my determined strokes as an all-consuming wave of pleasure began to surge up from the depths of my groin. But, rather than speed up and race to the finish, I slowed my tempo right down and revelled in her performance.

She was self-gratification personified, a truly irresistible masturbater. I could only hope I was half as good.

And then, as we both drew ever closer to our own wide-eyed crescendos, I let go of my cock and clutched my arse.

I stopped.

She stopped.

Everything stopped.

And I clung to the edge by my fingertips.

Then she let out a quiet, almost imperceptible gasp.

And down I went.

She clawed at her breasts and cursed my name as a thick, creamy stream of cum flooded out of me and dripped onto her discarded gown at my feet. And when my body jerked and my cock twitched and it happened again, she cursed some more.

But my hands remained firmly locked to my ass.

It was such a wonderful feeling letting my hard, wavering cock just do its thing, unmolested, under her gaze. It had me delirious feeling so much cum pulse out of me like that. And there's no getting away from it, it really did pour.

That probably had an awful lot to do with the way she looked at me though. For it felt like she was with me, mind, body and soul, every single step of the way. Even when all mine went into spasm as I stroked away again on my still hard but achingly empty cock.

And then I was done. And so was she.

I watched her slowly loosen her grip on her ravaged breasts as the hardness in my cock began to wane.

And all I could think was how much nicer her cakes would taste now.

'I can't stop my legs from shaking,' she said, sitting up, gripping the towel.

I shook my head and smiled.

She glanced down at the milky pools of cum that had collected on the slick fabric of her gown.

'I'll get another towel next time.'

I sucked in a huge lungful of air and gazed down at her soaking wet pussy. 'Or a straw,' I said, grinning.

'Or a straw,' she repeated, breathlessly, grinning back.